Destiny Made
by rann
Summary: Maybe Marguerite and Roxton have more of a history than we know. Maybe there’s a bit of the old West in their past.


**Title:** Destiny Made  
**Author:** rann

**Disclaimers:** The characters from "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" are owned by Telescene, NewLine Television, The Over the Hill Gang, Coote/Hayes, etc. No profit is being made from this story. No infringement upon copyrighted material is intended.

Many of the character names were drawn from old folk songs about the West or well-known bandits. No resemblance to any person living or dead is intended.

**Spoilers:** Out of Time, Amazons, Voodoo Queen, Man of Vision, Into the Fire, True Spirit, The Knife, Dead Man's Hill, The Secret, Trapped

**Setting:** After Dead Man's Hill, before Hollow Victory.

**Description:** Maybe Marguerite and Roxton have more of a history than we know. Maybe there's a bit of the old West in their past.

**Thanks:** To Ariadne and CMS for sticking with this story for over a year and a half. Their ideas and suggestions were invaluable. Their encouragement was an absolute necessity! The problems and the faults of the story are mine.

**Author's Notes:**  
**About the title:** In Prophecy Marguerite tells Isadore "I make my own destiny." Perhaps she did that in the past.

**Recap of Dead Man's Hill:**  
While out on the plateau, Marguerite and Roxton find a noose and a tombstone. Suddenly Roxton finds himself in the Wyoming of 1875, surrounded by people who look like his friends, but don't always act like them. None of them recognize him. Roxton is about to be hanged to take the blame for the murder of Maylene's husband. Maylene looks exactly like Marguerite. Maylene saves Roxton, together they piece together the evidence that Johnny Ringo (Malone), and Sheriff Challenger have conspired to kill Maylene's husband. Violet (Veronica) is a former lover of Ringo's and a friend to Maylene, but takes money from Ringo even though she knows it's _'tainted with blood'_. After Violet and Ringo shoot each other, Roxton kills Challenger, then finds himself back on the plateau.

**soulmate**_ noun_  
One of two persons compatible with each other in disposition, point of view, or sensitivity.

_The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition_ copyright © 1992 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Electronic version licensed from INSO Corporation. All rights reserved.

**âme sœur** kindred spirit

**compañero/a**_m/f_ del alma; alma _f_ gemela

- and , if God choose,  
I shall but love thee better after death.  
_How do I love thee?_ from Sonnets from the Portuguese  
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806-1861

**Destiny Made**

**_A cave, a different time _**  
The dark haired couple sat together, their backs braced against the rock. The woman's head rested on the man's right shoulder, both of them taking comfort in their proximity. Her right hand hung on to his arm, her left arm had slipped under his arm and her hand stole down his forearm to grip his hand. His fingers closed convulsively around hers, both offering and seeking solace. The entrance was blocked with too many rocks, the gas was seeping in. Time was slipping away.

**_At the treehouse, present time _**  
Marguerite carried her pile of mending down the stairs to their rooms. She had already stopped in Veronica's room with one of Abigail's old gowns. The explorers had decided a celebration was in order since they were all back together again. Veronica decided to add to the upcoming festivities by trying something other than her normal look. Marguerite had helped her experiment with hairstyles and some minor alterations to the gown to ensure a perfect fit.

Marguerite entered the reporter's room, smiling to see the journals lined up once more and placed the two shirts she had for him on the chest of drawers. Secretly the dark haired beauty thought that seeing the jungle girl in something different might cause the reporter to take the initiative to further their relationship. Veronica was the closest thing to woman friend she had, it would be good to see her happy.

_"Amazing how some men needed such prodding"_ she thought, considering Malone's hesitant pursuit of Veronica. She dropped her own clothes in her room and headed to the room by the lab to drop off Challenger's things.

_"On the other hand some men could be amazingly difficult to keep in line"_ she reflected wryly a few moments later, as she entered the hunter's room. Seeing the clutter of shaving equipment, a holster he was mending, and the book he was reading on surface of the chest in his room, she opted to open one of the drawers to put away his shirts and the pair of khaki pants she had just mended.

As she looked in the drawer she saw another shirt with a torn shoulder seam lying there. She shifted it over to make room for the mended clothes. _"How like John, not to have noticed. Here I thought I was done. Oh well, I'll take this and work on it this evening."_

As she picked up the shirt, an object underneath caught her eye. A doll made of dried grasses, hatpins for eyes, a crudely made hat on the head. She recognized it with a catch of her breath. The ache of that memory had never completely faded. _"What's this"_ Frowning she studied the piece of cloth that was wrapped across the doll's chest like a sash, over the doll's left shoulder. _"This wasn't there before."_ There was some object underneath the sash where the doll's heart would be. _"I should put this down, ask John."_ But unable to stop herself from looking, she lifted the side of the sash and spied her ring. The ring that had gone missing when Danielle, the voodoo witch, had been there.

Stunned and unsure of the implications she stood frozen, unaware of the observer who regarded her from the hall.

The watcher silently stepped into the room. His noiseless movements were a skill learned and practiced until it became second nature. He slipped behind the beautiful brunette. His arms wrapped around her, startling her. Recognizing the embrace, she exhaled in relief. He placed a kiss on her neck. His eyes then focused on her hands and he winced"Oh, you found it." _"This is going to require some explanation."_

"What are you doing with my ring and this doll" Uneasy and somewhat apprehensive, Marguerite moved to step away from Lord Roxton's embrace.

"Protection." He tightened his arms around her.

"Protection…. From what" She twisted in his arms to face him, of all the things he could have said this was the last thing she expected.

"From someone trying to separate us, using spells or other means." He raised his hand to stroke her hair. "You can't deny that we've seen some very strange things on the plateau, Askwith, Saros, Oseena, that bloody knife."

"I grant you that. But you don't think that this" She gestured with the doll"could have any effect, do you" Marguerite was a little unsettled at remembering the number of supernatural encounters they had had on the plateau.

"I can't be sure, but I'm reluctant to put it to the test."

"You don't seem very confident. You've accused me of flirting several times." Marguerite stood in the circle of his arms, her chin tilted so she could see his eyes. Amazed at both how unnerving and comforting it could be to be reminded of his greater size, his strength.

"You seemed to have gotten my attention in those cases." Never would he own up to those fascinating eyes that he was jealous. Neither of them would. He knew her attentions to Askwith and that murderous Inspector Anderson were as much to flatter them into providing a way off the plateau as anything else.

"Maybe it doesn't have any effect. What about what happened when you found yourself in, where was it again, Wyoming"

"What does that have to do with anything"

Marguerite's eyes dropped"It seemed you were attracted to Maylene. The ring and doll didn't stop that."

"That was different."

"Just how was it different" Marguerite was not easily mollified.

"She was you." Roxton said the words, calmly, evenly, absolutely convinced it was true.

"No, John, she looked like me." Marguerite was equally certain of her point of view. "Just like that sheriff, the outlaw, and the saloon keeper just looked like Challenger, Malone and Veronica. The resemblance was just a trick your mind played on you. The same way Ned saw all of us back in Jack the Ripper's London."

"I don't think so, Marguerite. I've thought about it. I believe you're right about how I saw the others. I saw them as my friends because I expected them to be there, wanted them there."

"And you expected me to be there as well." Marguerite drew the logical conclusion.

"I tried to make the others act like our friends. But they didn't. And you're right, probably none of them really looked like any of you. Just wishful thinking that made me see those people as physical reflections of you. On the other hand, deep inside, Maylene…" He paused uncertain for the moment what to say.

"What about her" Once again Marguerite tried to move away. Roxton let her slip from his grasp this time, but took her hand.

"She yearned to travel; she was quiet and a little timid on the surface." Roxton's voice reflected a fond remembrance of the prairie girl.

"When have you ever thought I was timid" Despite herself, a touch of humor tinged her voice.

"I said on the surface! When it came down to fighting for justice for her dead husband, she was all fire and steel." A reminiscent smile crept over the hunter's face. "She held me at gunpoint and threatened me. Even took a shot at me. At the ground, right between my feet." He raised his eyebrows at her.

"She was more perceptive than I gave her credit for." Marguerite remarked tartly.

"That's when I was really convinced she was you" Roxton said with a slight grin.

"Any other convincing signs"

"She hit me with the butt end of her rifle when I kept annoying her." Roxton offered with another smile.

"No wonder you fell for her." Marguerite remarked pointedly. "I seemed to recall a similar attraction to that Amazon; what was her name? Oh, yes, Hippolyta." Her eyes drilled him. "After she beat you in a sword fight."

Roxton winced at the memory.

"Just think of the ladies in all the boudoirs across Europe. If only they had known to win your heart all they needed to do was pull a weapon on you." The slightly sarcastic, airy tone failed to disguise the jealousy she always tried to hide. She paced away nervously. "What else"

"When I thought I had shot our Challenger, she tried to absolve me from my guilt." He paused. "Just as you would have. Just as you always have." His voice had become tender. "That was how I ended up with the badge." Roxton's hand tucked a few tendrils of Marguerite's hair behind an ear, as he closed the distance between them. "It was Maylene's way of telling me I had stood for justice."

Marguerite paused in her restless movements, overwhelmed by the knowledge that her belief in him these past years on the plateau had so profound an effect.

"I kissed her…..and the connection was there." The hunter's voice was quiet, serious.

Marguerite swallowed. "You kissed her." The soft statement was a testament to her wariness.

"I thought you and I were trapped there together and I wanted you to remember. I knew if I had you by my side, we'd get through it. I couldn't be there without you." An undercurrent of the desperation of that time colored his voice. "So, yes, I kissed her. It made me certain that she was you. There was a slight difference, but as I said - the connection was there."

"Well if she was me, what about Jeremiah Roxton? And how did you get there"

**1875, Wyoming, The hanging tree **  
Jack Challenger and one of his deputies laughed as the other tied the greenhorn's hands behind his back.

"Listen to me, Sheriff, even for the West this is not a proper way to settle a complaint of this nature." The hint of Boston, the East, clung to the greenhorn's words. "I wasn't the one who killed that poor man. You've got to keep looking. And when you arrest the right man you can search him. He took everything that poor cowboy had on him. I can even tell you which direction he rode off in."

"I'm sure you can." Challenger looked at the papers he'd taken from the man now astride a horse with a noose around his neck. "Jeremiah Roxton. That's one reason you're here." The sheriff looked to his deputies. They nodded everything was ready."

"You, Jeremiah Roxton, you have been found guilty of being the wrong man in the wrong place and at decidedly the wrong time."

The pain was horrendous. The coarse laughter of the sheriff and his deputies filled his ears. His legs kicked as he briefly struggled. He knew his fate was inevitable; he had no friends here to depend on. He'd come West looking for something to which he couldn't even put a name. Something that he needed to be complete. Now, the search for that missing piece of him would end unfulfilled. A brief moment of anguish remained. There was no more.

A few moments later a woman in black came striding by. She took in the sight of the lynched man. Anger at seeing him there, the indignity of it, suffused her. She aimed her rifle to free him from the strangling rope, then realized it was too late, he was already gone.

And beneath her conscious mind, some part of her, the part that her husband, _"Her late husband"_ she still had to remind herself; always called 'moonbeams and starshine', rebelled. She had no other name for it and in the tumbleweed blown prairies of Wyoming, no one to name it Morrighan.

Deep in Maylene's mind, the essence that was Morrighan rose in fury at the loss of her soulmate. To have come so close and then be cut away, was not to be borne. For a brief moment out of time, the timid mouse of a rancher's widow became the powerful Druid priestess, who reached across time to another place where she and her soulmate stood. Morrighan/Maylene found them in a place that seethed in power, in the not too distant future. Yes, with the power that was there she could reach him. She couldn't change much, but she would have justice and at least a brief time with her mate in this life.

Energy seethed. Power surged. A noose appeared in a jungle, the headstone that was inevitable, if nothing occurred to prevent it materialized nearby. The man was caught in the snare. Time reset itself and once again a man was on a horse, but this time a soul was pulled from miles and years away.

Jeremiah Roxton sat on the horse, and suddenly felt like he was pushed to the back of his mind. He decided imminent death had affected his sanity. Someone else was in his body, someone he could only observe, but on some level, knew. Jeremiah tried to speak but couldn't. He heard his voice cry in desperation to the Sheriff as if he knew him. It didn't do any good. Too quickly the horse was spooked. He and the not-quite-a-stranger in his body faced death.

Jeremiah was ready to surrender to his fate, but the thoughts of this stranger kept his body struggling for life. _"Where is she? Marguerite, why aren't you here? I hope to God you're okay."_ Air was running out, darkness closing in, when a shot sounded. The ground rose, a pain shot through his ankle and then blessedly the constriction around his neck was loosened.

As Jeremiah came to, he realized the stranger was still in his body. The stranger knew the woman who was with them. _But as he looked at the woman, Jeremiah realized that she didn't match the picture in the stranger's mind.The hair, the eyes that this stranger saw were different than the woman actually had. A sudden realization occurred to Jeremiah, this stranger had done the same thing with the Sheriff. Mistaken him for someone familiar to him. _This stranger who identified himself as John Roxton. Jeremiah could see the memories of this John Roxton. Although some did not make much sense, bizarre images of lizards walking upright, fantastical animals. Jeremiah continued to search John Roxton's memory for a clue as to who he was. He found images of a manor house, of London.

"Ah, the English branch of the family."

Jeremiah watched, dealing with the odd sensation of being an observer in his own body. John Roxton seemed equally perplexed at what was happening. Maybe that was why this stranger kept seeing the people around him as the images of people he knew, not as they really were. He wished he could confront this John Roxton who seemed to have no compunction about imposing himself on this sweet, shy, beautiful woman.

**A day later **  
Maylene placed the badge and the gun in John/Jeremiah's hand. As Jeremiah stared at the badge, his eyes blurred. The presence of John Roxton was gone. The sudden shift of control of his own body back to him disrupted his balance. He stumbled.

Maylene reached out and steadied him. "John, are you okay"

He finally looked into her eyes with his own eyes. "I'm Jeremiah, Maylene."

Maylene blinked. "But you said…"

"We need to talk." He saw the nervousness and uncertainty in her eyes. "I won't hurt you." With an incredible gentleness he continued"If you'd rather not, I understand." The code he lived by wouldn't allow him to cause her anymore distress.

Maylene, for the first time since this whole unreal experience began, felt comfortable with the man before her. She had come to trust John Roxton, but when his eyes looked at her, she knew he was seeing someone from whom he wanted more than she could give.

Maylene and Jeremiah talked long into the night. They had walked back to the Triple M. The barn was still standing. Maylene didn't know what she would have done in the aftermath of Violet and Challenger's deaths without Lord, no Mister, Roxton there. Mister Roxton had insisted she start calling him Jeremiah. He said he had been thinking about her as Maylene these past two days.

They went through the house to see what they could salvage. Jeremiah spared a thought for his distant relative. _"I hope he found his way back to his Marguerite."_ He actually in some ways envied the man the longing he had felt for the woman who held his heart. Miss Krux was an exceptionable beauty from the picture John Roxton had carried in his mind. But in his own heart Jeremiah found he preferred Maylene's gentle expression and her soft eyes.

As night fell they decided to sleep under the stars. The skies were clear and the night was warm. Maylene watched as Jeremiah managed to get a fire going. Maylene found a few eggs in the barn. They rescued the skillet from the embers of the house.

So little remained. The pictures of distant cities she yearned for, the mementos of her brief married life, all ashes. As she carefully tended the pan over the fire she dashed away the tears that slipped out. She would not give into weakness. Not again. She had wept copiously when the news first came about Martin. She hadn't thought much else could hurt her.

Now so much of what she had shared with Martin was gone. Her dreams were gone. Her best friend was gone. She'd just stood there, helplessly and watched her die at the hands of a shiftless outlaw. It was almost as if Martin had died all over again. Both of the people who had anchored her to the life she knew were gone. She was cast adrift.

Jeremiah Roxton returned with more wood for the fire. He gave her an easy nod as he laid his burden down nearby. While searching through the barn, he had found some blankets and laid them out near the fire. He sat next to her quietly, displaying an understanding of her mood that somehow she didn't find surprising. She studied this out of place Bostonian as he offered his company without trying to intrude on her thoughts. At least now she felt like she had gotten justice for Martin. The men who had killed her husband were dead. But all the violence had left her shocked, uncertain of what to do. The man who sat beside her was now her only anchor in a sea of emotional turmoil.

Jeremiah looked over the small collection of her belongings they had pulled from the ruins of the cabin. He came back with a couple of forks. They shared their dinner right from the pan.

Maylene watched in some surprise as her companion investigated the pistol she had given him after Sheriff Challenger's death. It was as if he was only vaguely familiar with guns. "Lord, I mean, Mister" The Bostonian gave her a look. "I mean Jeremiah. What's wrong? You act like you've hardly ever had a gun. And you're surely the best shot I ever did see."

"I'm afraid, Maylene, John Roxton was the marksman. I'm just a novice with pistols. One doesn't use them very often on the streets of Boston."

"How did John Roxton get here" Maylene looked at Jeremiah curiously.

"I wish I knew, all of a sudden he just was. And then after shooting the sheriff, when you gave him, me, the badge, he wasn't there." He looked at her a little puzzled. "You do realize that if I told anyone in Boston this story I'd be locked away in an insane asylum."

"Let's just say I had some time to become accustomed to the tale." Her drawl brought a tender smile to his face. "What"

"When John Roxton looked at you, he saw his Marguerite, but he heard you as you really are. I'm glad of that. I've grown rather fond of your voice over these past two days."

"Tell me about yourself." Maylene asked a bit nervously, shifting the topic of conversation. "I don't know you, I only know about the other man, Lord Roxton."

"You know, I'm from Boston. I went to school there. My family has a business that I worked at it. I wasn't really needed, I have three older brothers. I thought about coming West, but then the war broke out." He looked off into the distance.

Maylene nodded. Even as far as Wyoming, they'd been affected by the Civil War.

"I joined up. They kept me in a staff position. I was lucky." _"Or"_ Jeremiah thought to himself, _"as I now suspect, my father interfered."_ The thought of being given special treatment shamed him.

As he reflected, he felt Maylene's hand on his arm, comforting him. She looked at him concerned. He patted her hand unaccountably soothed.

He continued aloud. "After the war, I resigned my commission, determined to get on with my own plans. But with the Reconstruction…" He shrugged. "It took a while for things to get back to normal with the family business. My plans had to be put on hold. Finally a year or so ago, I decided if I was going to make it to the West, it had to be now. I was down in Nevada for awhile and then drifted back up here." He smiled at Maylene. "Although it seemed to be a bad decision at first, I'm glad I did it now."

"I'm glad you did, too." Maylene responded softly. Justice had been done. She could face Martin's memory with a clear conscience. But more than that, the caring she had felt these past days had warmed her. The odd thing was she felt the same caring whether it was John or Jeremiah. To be honest she was more comfortable with Jeremiah. John Roxton wanted her to be someone she wasn't. He wanted her to be his Miss Krux.

Jeremiah was more like she was, trying to understand the incomprehensible events of the past two days. And while he too was seeking comfort from her, he didn't press her to act a certain way. It made it easier to offer him comfort. She could be herself.

She didn't like to think about what would have happened if he hadn't been there. Whether it was John or Jeremiah, she didn't need to sort out. She had known that Sheriff Challenger had been eyeing her ranch and regarded her as nothing more than an inconvenience to be gotten rid of one way or another. She would have faced up to Challenger no matter what, but without Roxton's support she wasn't sure if she'd have survived the confrontation.

"So, Maylene, tell me about how you ended up in on a ranch instead of traveling."

Maylene smiled sadly as she reminisced. "Not much to tell. I always lived around here. Martin was a bit older than me. Spent a lot of his time workin' the cattle drives. He didn't have much patience with daydreams. Thought it was foolishness. After my family was gone - the influenza one winter, the bank took my family's ranch. Martin thought it was about time we got married." She looked up at Jeremiah. "I cared for him; we'd known each other a long time." Maylene looked into the campfire. Jeremiah picked up her hand and held it. He just waited for her to continue. "We both knew ranchin'. Martin wanted this to be our place. That's why he named it like he did. The Triple M for Martin and Maylene Montgomery." Her voice broke.

Jeremiah covered the hand he held with his other. He tried to squash the sudden surge of jealously he felt towards a dead man.

Maylene pulled herself together. She squeezed Jeremiah's hand comforted by his presence. "You know the rest of it." She offered a tentative smile. "It's been a long day. We'd best turn in."

The smell of coffee reached Jeremiah as he blinked his eyes against the early morning light. He saw Maylene by the fire sipping her coffee and staring at the horizon. He slipped out from under his blanket and crouched down beside her.

"Are you okay"

"Everything's changed. I have no house, only the few things we salvaged. I lost my friend. My husband's gone." Her voice broke. Tears slipped down her face, but her back was straight. The West wasn't kind to weak women. Disdaining to wipe her tears, she took several breaths as she brought her emotions under control

Jeremiah was fascinated as he took in the courage of this woman. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, that was true. But it was the courage, the determination, the kindness she showed that made him want to stay at her side. The East had been filled with sophisticated, polished debutantes, but none of them had ever struck such a chord in him. A little shy when it came to dealing with people, but underneath it all she was fire and steel. "We'll work it out."

"We? But don't you have plans? I can't ask you to stay and help me."

"You didn't ask. And as for my plans, I've discovered there's no place that I need to be more than here." She wasn't ready to hear that he had discovered he couldn't leave this place without her.

"Mister.., I mean Jeremiah, I don't know if I can. I mean it's only been a month since Martin died. Just because I let you or, well, I mean..." Maylene was flustered as badly as when John Roxton had kissed her.

"It's okay, Maylene. You don't have to do anything, promise anything. I'll just be your hired hand. It looks like you could use a little help around the spread."

"I can't pay you."

"I have enough money. I kept some in my boot. A trick I learned in Nevada." He smiled encouragingly. "The sheriff and his men never found it. I can even wire home for more."

"I won't accept charity." Maylene was adamant, determined to prove she could stand on her own two feet.

"How about help from a friend? You saved me from the hangman." He offered tentatively.

"Is that the only reason" Maylene's voice betrayed her uncertainty.

"No." Jeremiah Roxton's eyes were steady as he looked at Maylene. She didn't have to accept what he offered, but he wouldn't deny what he wanted.

"I'll pay you back."

"If you want."

"This place was more Martin's dream than mine." She smiled slightly in remembrance of good times.

"What are your dreams? Wait, don't tell me." Jeremiah gave her a playful smile. "You wanted to see the big cities."

"Oh, not so much the cities, but I've never been more than twenty miles from my home. I wanted more adventure in my life."

Roxton smiled, remembering Violet's comment about her life of adventure.

"What about your dreams, Mist…Jeremiah"

"I guess I thirsted for adventure as well." Jeremiah said casually, he really couldn't explain to anyone the inner drive that had sent him West. "It was why I left Boston. I was going to do some prospecting."

"What will your family say if you stay here as some kind of hired hand"

"They'd probably say make sure you get a good day's work out of him." Jeremiah tossed her a grin, pleased to see her expression lighten.

They spent the rest of the day sorting through the ruins of her cabin.

**About a year later **  
The months had been hard. The Triple-M was still not quite self-sufficient, but with work it could be. Jeremiah Roxton stopped to wipe the sweat off of his brow. His shirt hung over one of the rails he'd replaced earlier. The muscles in his arms and chest were well defined as he hauled the last rail into place. The logs he'd cut down yesterday had been enough to finish the repair to the corral.

He saw Maylene by the pump. His greatest pleasure these past months had been watching her. He'd always thought of himself as a patient man. But that patience had been sorely tried. He wondered how much longer it would be until she turned and found him at her heels, pulling her into his arms.

Her smile tore at him today. He did his best to return it as she approached carrying the water bucket.

"You must be parched." Maylene offered the metal dipper.

He drank down one cup and then took another and poured it over his head. "Thanks." He smiled at her laughter. He took her hand and kissed it. She didn't run. Usually his gestures of affection brought a speedy retreat. Encourage he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. Reaching across her he took the bucket from her other hand.

The ruins of the cabin had long since been cleared away. Roxton had managed to section off part of the barn, so she had some privacy and comfort. He'd been quite proud of his accomplishment. _"Amazing at what was lacking in a Harvard education."_ He thought wryly. Between them they had contrived a small shelter for cooking. He put the bucket there.

"You shouldn't work so long without stopping for a break." Her nervous patter had Roxton reaching up to smooth her hair back. It was a gesture to which they had both become accustomed. It felt right and natural. Unexpectedly this time, Maylene leaned into his hand. Cautiously, unwilling to startle her, Roxton slipped his hand to the back of her head. With his other hand he tipped her chin up and then kissed her.

Maylene gently put her hands on his shoulders both in affection and for support. Too soon the kiss broke. Roxton pulled her against his bare chest. His arms tight around her. Maylene had been married before. She recognized in the tenseness of his body, a man struggling for control. She stayed still, giving him the time to pull himself together, as well as reining in her own emotions.

A soft kiss on her brow moments later let her know he had himself in check. "Does this mean, what I think it does" His words were teasing, but his eyes weren't.

"It's been nearly a year, since Martin went on that cattle drive to Abilene." She paused briefly. "I went to visit his grave this morning."

Jeremiah didn't tell her he'd followed her. She had an independent streak and didn't always take kindly to his bouts of over-protectiveness. "He was a good man and he cared for you." The Bostonian had dealt with his jealousy of a dead man a long time ago. He really was grateful that she'd had a husband who treated her well. She deserved it.

"He surely was that. And I think now he wants me to get on with my life." Maylene took a breath unsure of what would happen in the next few minutes, but knowing it was the most important turning point in her life. "I'm selling the Triple-M."

"Are you sure? This is what you've known for so long." Roxton's concern was a palpable thing.

"It was Martin's dream." And with more conviction in her voice"Now it's time for mine."

"So where are we going"

"You said 'we'"

"Did I" He smiled. "Shall we make dinner and plans"

"Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you. Away you rolling river."

Jeremiah smiled to hear Maylene's voice raised in song as she fussed over dinner. The last time he heard her singing that song she'd been by the stream, taking an impromptu bath. She did love to be clean, and would endure the cool stream water if that's what it took. His unexpected arrival while she was immersed in the water had demonstrated that the woman who had his heart also had a temper. No amount of warning about the dangers of bathing alone had saved him from her fury.

Her anger didn't bother him; he had no use for a milquetoast woman. Apparently he shared that with his distant cousin, as well. What did bother him was how the image of her surfacing in the water stayed in his mind. At times he had to stop himself from closing the distance between them and convincing her of what he knew they both wanted. He could almost hear John Roxton's voice counseling him to patience. John Roxton's Marguerite had been leading him a pretty dance. And like her, his Maylene was worth any trouble it took to win her.

_"Away. I'm bound away 'cross the wide Missouri."_ At least Maylene's choice of music was less scandalous than Marguerite's. With another inward smile at thought of what he and his 'cousin' endured, he went to pull some blankets out. It was another good night for sleeping under the stars. At least this way she was within arm's reach instead of behind a barrier in the stables.

Dinner was a simple affair. Maylene had caught a couple of fish while he was repairing the corral. Afterwards, they walked to the newly repaired corral to watch the mare and her colt as the sun set. It was a tranquil, beautiful night. The distant foothills of the mountain were silhouetted in a red glow. To the east the stars were already peaking out. The night sky in the West was something Jeremiah had not grown tired of. In cities back in the East you didn't get such a brilliant display of stars.

Roxton looked down at the woman next to him, her eyes watching the antics of the colt. He took a breath, more nervous than he thought possible. At this moment he'd had rather been facing Sheriff Challenger's pistol and all his deputies. He draped his arm over her shoulders. "Maylene."

Maylene turned to face him; she gave him a soft smile. The confidence in him that he saw in her face had his courage flooding back.

"I haven't wanted to rush you. I wanted you to have time." He paused searching for the right words.

"Jeremiah" Maylene grew suddenly nervous. She thought perhaps he was getting ready to move on. He had done more for her, helped more than any other man could have, would have. She had no right to expect more, but the thought of him leaving left her bereft in ways she hadn't thought possible. Her hand went to his shoulder.

"Would you consider becoming my wife"

Wordlessly, Maylene nodded. Speech failed her, tears started as she smiled. Her worst fears had turned into her greatest happiness.

Jeremiah pulled her closer and they sealed their engagement with a kiss.

The minister came through the town once a month. That took care of the wedding plans. They placed notices about selling the ranch as far away as Cheyenne. Now it was time to decide what to do.

"When we sell the place, I want to take you to Chicago, then New York, London, Paris." The night was warm and clear. As they had many nights in the past they slept outside, but now there was no question of staying apart.

Maylene laughed, her head resting on his shoulder. "I don't know if we'll get enough money from the sale of the ranch for all that."

"Not to worry. You put the money you get from the sale in the bank. Call it a nest egg, if you will."

The prairie girl sat up, suddenly suspicious. "Just how much money do you have"

"Enough to take care of my new wife. When we get to Chicago, we need to see a lawyer. He'll take care of the paper work for us."

"You have the kind of money to do that kind of traveling and you stayed here as my hired hand" Maylene was stunned.

"It was the only place I wanted to be. You wouldn't have left with me, not then. Without you by my side, I couldn't leave this place." Roxton said the words matter-of-factly. As far as he was concerned it wasn't romance; it was a simple statement of the truth.

"You stayed because of me." It was more statement than question. His devotion took her breath away. Her eyes were shining with tears.

"Look at all I've learned this past year. I've become a much better shot. I can fix a corral." He tucked her hair back, trying to coax a smile."

"With all that money, why where you here" Maylene's dark eyes searched his.

"Like I told you, I wanted a life of adventure. Now I have one." His hand stroked her hair.

"You were going prospecting"

"Yes, but we don't have to. We can travel if you like."

"How about we do the prospecting first, then we'll travel." Maylene stroked the cheek of the man she'd fallen irrevocably in love with.

His lips covered hers in response.

Denver was still a wide-open town. The new mansions of those who'd found their fortune were not far from the bars and brothels of those who were still seeking theirs. The bank official, who was handling the sale of the Triple M, was used to people from both sides of the town. With the silver mines, sometimes it was only a month or two between when a man went from one side to the other.

The slight man adjusted his spectacles. _"Bank Officer Ambrose"_ he thought proudly. He patted his pocket where he kept his pistol out of sight. Afraid to deal with people on his own, Ambrose's answer to his inferiority was a dependence on a hidden weapon.

He looked over his paperwork for this morning's meeting. Mr. Wheeler was buying a small spread in Wyoming from a widow. That should be a relatively easy transaction. He was sure he could intimidate a timid, helpless widow into meeting Mr. Wheeler's terms. And appeasing Mr. Wheeler was high on Ambrose's list of priorities.

Wheeler straightened his coat as he preemptively entered Ambrose's tiny office without a knock. Hastily, the bank officer rose.

"Mr. Wheeler, sir, do come in. Please have a seat." Ambrose scrambled to hold a chair for one the bank's most influential customers.

"Ambrose, where is she? I'm a busy man." Wheeler had his tenants for the ranch all lined up, he was anxious to send them on their way.

"Yes, sir. I know, sir. I told her ten o'clock."

A tentative knock sounded on the door. "Please come in." Ambrose looked to the door. As the surprisingly beautiful woman stepped in with an unsure smile, both men rose perfunctorily. Wheeler looked at her with renewed interest.

"I beg your pardon" the slight drawl marked the woman's Western antecedents. "Are you Mr. Ambrose"

"Yes, yes, I am. You must be Mrs. Martin."

"Well, actually – I'm" Maylene fidgeted with the unaccustomed finery that Jeremiah had insisted upon when they reached Denver.

"Sit down, please, we're anxious to get started. Mr. Wheeler's very busy." Ambrose interrupted the young woman as he fussed with the papers on your desk.

"Now about your price, Mrs. Martin. You wouldn't understand these things." Wheeler began his steamroller techniques that had proven successful in the past.

"I understand about prices, Mr. Wheeler, and that you agreed to pay my price." Maylene had faced down coyotes in the past, both the two-legged and four-legged kind. She wasn't about to give in to this one doused with a fancy scent.

"Well, that was then in Wyoming. This is Colorado. These things change. You shouldn't worry your pretty head." Wheeler reached over to pat her hand. She yanked it away.

"I know a deal is a deal." Her eyes lit up with anger at the condescending tones. _"Not a coyote" _she thought,_ "a sidewinder."_

"Now one can't take such a narrow view of things, Mrs. Martin." Ambrose knew his job was to smooth things over. "After all you can't run a ranch on your own and you should be happy, Mr. Wheeler's willing to take it off your hands."

Maylene rose, bringing the discussion to a close. Her voice was furious. "I can do whatever it takes, and I'm not Mrs. –" A firm knock on the door interrupted her. Without waiting for an invitation the door opened to admit Jeremiah Roxton.

"Done already" Jeremiah glanced around the room, taking in the discord.

"Apparently, Mr. Wheeler is unwilling to understand that a deal is a deal." Maylene took the arm Roxton offered. He was willing to back her if she wanted to call a halt.

"Now that's not quite the situation, land prices are so unstable. Mrs. Martin – " Wheeler wanted the land, but still thought he might be able to bully the woman into taking less than the land was worth.

"Mrs. Martin? Have you changed your mind already" Jeremiah smiled down at her, lifting an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, but who are you" Ambrose had put his hand on his pocket needing the comfort of the gun. The man who stood in front of him was all that he wanted to be. Tall, confident, in control.

Roxton pulled his attention reluctantly away from his bride. "This lady's husband. Roxton. Jeremiah Roxton." His look at the two men was not kind. If Maylene had found them lacking, he was willing to follow her lead.

"Well, Mr. Roxton, I'm sure we can come to terms." Wheeler began to bluster.

Ambrose stood still for a moment as the name and the Eastern accent clicked in his memory. "Roxton? From Boston"

Roxton nodded. Wheeler looked between Ambrose and Roxton realizing that something had just changed.

"Mr. Roxton, I'm sure as gentlemen we can come to a reasonable agreement regarding the sale of the ranch." Ambrose began in his most conciliatory manner.

"It's not my ranch." Roxton pointed out coolly. "It's the property of Mrs. Roxton. She'll make the decisions regarding the land and the sale." He waited impassively for a sign of compliance.

The two men nodded their agreement.

Chicago , risen from the ashes, was all that Maylene could have wished. So much was new, the fire was five years ago and the people were determined to put it behind them.

Jeremiah had smiled to see her enthusiasm, wide-eyed and somewhat overwhelmed. And when she dressed in silk and put up her hair, he was stunned at how she lit up the room.

For her part she was glad that they had decided to only go as far as Chicago for now. The hotel, The Palmer House was magnificent. It had only been open a year. The theatres so very impressive, she couldn't help but feel overawed. This was going to take some getting use to. After Cheyenne and Denver she had thought she'd was ready for big cities, but this was more than she expected.

But while the sights were most impressive, something troubled her. It disturbed her a bit to see Jeremiah as a polished gentleman content in these imposing surroundings.

He seemed like someone else, not the man who had spent hours on ranch chores. The man who practiced with a pistol until he'd gained an incredible expertise. The man who would strip his shirt off and repair her barn and corral.

This man looked like he should lift a finger and have waiters bowing, clerks running to get whatever he wanted. He didn't look like a man who would have wed a rancher's widow.

With the ease of one in familiar surroundings Jeremiah Roxton crossed the lobby with its plush banquettes and gilded embellishments. The red velvet seats enticed one to linger. He had come down earlier to arrange the evening's entertainment with the concierge. The trepidation in her eyes had him taking her hand gently as he bowed over it. Confused, he saw that his action did nothing to alleviate her tension.

"What is it, my dear? Or should I say, my queen" His hand motioned towards her gown as he teased her with a smile.

"I'm not sure what to do, what to say. It doesn't seem the same here. You don't seem the same."

"Say anything you want." He lifted her chin gently so she looked him in the eyes. "It's still me, the man you saved, the man who you spent so much time teaching about the West this past year."

When she was so still and quiet, he went on more angrily. "Am I to think after all this time you don't know who I am? You're afraid to touch me? Do you think I'm possessed by someone else again."

"No, Jeremiah." Astounded by the pain in his eyes, she reached for his hand. "You're the same man I've known this past year. I can see it in your eyes."

Taking her hand he tucked into the crook of his arm. They needed to defuse the emotion while they were out in public. "Then, my dear, let's dine.

**A few days later **  
"Do you think it's time we head back West, my dear" Jeremiah watched Maylene's face as he posed the question. She was looking out the window of their sitting room at the city, intrigued by the lights in the evening's shadow. He had moved to her side to gauge her reaction.

She smiled softly. "What was in the telegram that came today"

Jeremiah looked ruefully at his wife, marveling at her perception, as he began to explain.

Carson City , Nevada had its start as a rough and ready town, although now it kept a surface veneer of civilization as befitted its status of state capital. The days on the train left both Maylene and Jeremiah tired and with the feeling that the ground beneath their feet was still moving.

Roxton waved a porter over to handle their bags.

"What now" Maylene's gloved hand rested on Roxton's arm. The formal manners of the city hadn't left them.

"A hotel, a change of clothes, and then I have to hunt down an old acquaintance."

"Can you trust him"

"Not exactly." Jeremiah was evasive.

"You don't trust him" Maylene voiced her concern.

"It's not a him."

"I said'No', Maylene." Roxton was dressed for an evening out in less than elegant surroundings. His voice was firm, laying down the law.

"So you did, Jeremiah." Maylene's garb was also less formal as she prepared to join him. "Are we ready to go"

The saloon had a back door. Maylene tossed a sideways glance at her husband, wondering at his familiarity with such an establishment. A man sat just inside the door. Jeremiah flipped a coin to him.

"Nell." Was all that Roxton said, the doorman nodded and made his way to a narrow hallway.

The faint strains of music could be heard.

_"And her beauty was sold, for an old man's gold,  
She's a bird in a gilded cage." _

The music died away as applause, shouting and a great deal of foot stomping were heard from out front.

Jeremiah looked at Maylene as they listened to the appreciative audience. "At least there's no gun shots." He remembered from past visits when an unruly crowd would sometimes fire their six-shooters in the air to express their approbation.

"Hey, Nell, ya got yourself a visitor." The doorman called out to the brightly dressed figure leaving the stage.

In response a no longer young woman with an improbable shade of blond hair that sported elaborate feathers paused. Spangles and sequins decorated the dress that only reached midcalf, her mild frown of inquiry turned to a beaming smile as she recognized her visitor.

"Well, I'll be damned, it's the greenhorn" Nell was a plain woman, but no one ever noticed that when she put on her welcoming smile. She opened her arms to embrace Roxton and was taken aback as he stepped back. She frowned and looked past him. Her frown deepened as she took in Maylene's appearance. Nell glared at Roxton. "Who's this"

"My wife."

"And you go and take a lady like her to a place like this" Nell's voice rose in anger. "What in the hell were you thinking of" Nell was ready to tear a strip off of him for bringing an innocent to the saloon.

"I did tell her no." Jeremiah offered ruefully.

Nell's lips twisted, she caught Maylene's eyes which were now amused at Nell's blunt manners. "Damn, I think I like you." Nell held out her hand. Maylene smiled and shook it. Jeremiah grinned, fascinated at how easily Maylene could adapt to a situation.

Nell turned back to Jeremiah, eyeing him speculatively. "You heard about Jake"

Jeremiah nodded, serious again. "That's why I'm here. I want to know who did it and where the others are."

Nell started with the easy answers, dreading the coming discussion. "Jess, he's riding for Brand L C. And Poker Bill's been hangin' round the Blue Goose saloon. Without the claim…" she sighed. "A body's gotta do something. They're doin' what they know."

"How'd it happen, Nell" The Bostonian pressed on.

Nell twisted her hands, not pleased to be the one delivering the news. "Jake was at the claim by himself. Ain't no one can say for sure. But Bill and Jess, they say there were some rocks with large silver threads. Jess swears that if they'd gone further they'd a hit a major silver vein." Nell looked away, not willing to finish.

"Who, Nell" Roxton didn't raise his voice, but it was implacable.

"Meeks and Logan, they brought a bunch of rocks to the Silver City's assayer's office right after." Nell told him reluctantly. "Next thing you know, the claim was deeded to them."

Roxton nodded.

"Listen, greenhorn, you can't go up against Meeks and Logan. They're Burton's men and Burton runs Silver City." Nell's voice was desperate. She had liked the greenhorn from the first time she saw him. Going up against Burton's gang was signing his death warrant.

"Thanks, Nell." Roxton dismissed her concerns.

Nell looked away from him frustrated and towards Maylene. "Look, you've got to talk some sense into him, Mrs. Roxton." She paused. "Maylene." The frantic tone to Nell's voice got to Maylene.

Maylene had been growing concerned during the tale, anyway. If there was one thing she knew, it was how small towns could be under the control of a corrupt man. She nodded to Nell. Roxton saw it and his mouth tightened. He wasn't going to be talked out of doing what was right by either an old friend or a new wife. He didn't like the idea that they would join forces against him.

"Let's go, May." He offered his arm, his outward manner polite, but Maylene could sense he was seething inwardly. She took his arm, but turned back towards Nell.

"Pleased to have met you."

Maylene's quiet manners brought a smile to Nell's face. "Same here, honey." As Maylene and Roxton opened the door onto the alley Nell called out"Good luck" But whether it was to Maylene or to Roxton, even Nell wasn't sure.

Out on the street Maylene and Roxton walked for a block or two.

"You want to tell me about it" Maylene's quiet voice was undemanding.

Jeremiah was silent for a long moment. Long enough so Maylene thought he might not answer.

"We called him New York Jake. He was always talking about how he was going to strike it rich and buy the biggest, fanciest house right next to Central Park." Jeremiah smiled a bit in remembrance. "I fell in with him when I first came out. He and Poker Bill and Jess were friends." Real amusement entered his voice as he spoke as if quoting. "They decided to keep an eye on the greenhorn before he got into real trouble." Jeremiah was silent as he thought back to those early days with some affection. "I wanted to do a bit of prospecting. They had nothing else going on and the silver strike had just happened a little over a year ago. We were all ready to try our luck."

He paused for a bit as they walked on. The chill of the night caused Maylene to shiver. Roxton unbuttoned his jacket wordlessly and draped it over her shoulders.

"At first we didn't think it we had anything. We thought it was just lead. Then we discovered the rocks streaked with silver, but I still didn't think it would amount to much." He thought for moment and admitted"I was restless. I left the three of them to work the site. I'd given them the grubstake, and wished them well. I wanted to look around some more. It was my first time out West and I wasn't ready to just settle there. I traveled north, a bit east and ended up in Wyoming." He glanced down at her. "You know the rest."

Maylene nodded as she considered what he said. Finally she spoke up. "So when do we go"

"We are not going" Roxton emphasized the 'we'. "I mean it this time, Maylene. This is too dangerous. I don't want you anywhere near these cutthroats."

"I don't want you near them either. But if you go, I go." Maylene displayed once again the determination that let her carry on running her ranch by herself after her husband's death.

"No, Maylene, I'm not going to let you do this."

Horseback was the best way to get to Silver City. Roxton checked his pistols and his rifle in a now familiar manner. He mentally checked off his supplies. The tension was rising in him over the coming confrontation. There was noise behind him. He wheeled about, pistol raised.

"Easy, easy." Maylene held out her hands, looking much as she did when he first saw her in her riding skirt and hat.

"Sorry, I guess I'm jumpy." Jeremiah holstered the pistol.

Maylene slid the rifle she carried into the leather pocket on the saddle. Roxton walked over to give her a leg up.

The battle last night had been raging back and forth until Maylene said in a tone of finality"I already lost one husband to outlaws; I'm not losing a second."

After that simple statement, Roxton didn't have the heart to leave her behind. And he knew that against the odds he was going up against he'd need all the help he could get. Maylene certainly could handle a gun and, Jeremiah thought with pride, she had more courage than most men he knew.

Silver City wasn't much of a town, but it was Burton's town and nobody argued the fact. Most of the town's business revolved around the mining in the area and a couple of ranches. The livery had as many mules as horses. The general store and the saloon got a lot of trade. The saloon perhaps a bit more. You either went there to celebrate your strike or drown your sorrows. The assayer's office was the site of a lot of hope and a lot more disappointment.

The dry, dusty town was surrounded by mountains. A lot of sage brush and a few more trees, but otherwise Maylene might have sworn she was back in Wyoming. They stopped by the hitching post outside the Blue Goose saloon.

"Wait for me here." Jeremiah dismounted. He left his rifle with his saddle. He made sure his guns at his side were ready. He looked at Maylene who was about to protest remaining behind. "Guard my back. They could try to circle around."

Roxton pushed the swinging doors in and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. The bright midday light silhouetted him to the denizens of the saloon. He stood inside the door surveying the room. At a table at the side he saw a familiar face.

"Bill." His voice carried across the room. In the back of room, sitting at a table playing cards, several men looked up and watched.

Poker Bill looked up and grinned. "Well, hogtie me if it ain't the greenhorn." The grizzled man stood and held out his hand. Jeremiah took it. Bill's grin faltered. "I 'xpect you heard about Jake." There was some shuffling of chairs from the back table.

"You want to tell me what happened, Bill" Jeremiah's voice was even and carried across the room.

Bill looked down and about nervously. He glanced to the back table. "Weren't nothin' I could do." He eyed the back table again. "They, um" Bill looked at his feet and finished in a rush. "They say it was Injuns."

"Do they" Roxton inquired ironically. "Who's 'they'"

Chairs shifted again and a man stood. "I said it, Roxton." The saloon was dead quiet. "Anyone here disagree with me" No one spoke.

"It was you, Burton. And everyone knows it." Roxton spoke evenly. He stepped slowly to the back table. Bill trailed in his wake.

"Shall we talk about it out in the street" Burton's words were a taunt. "You're wearing a gun. Ever learn how to use it"

"Why don't you find out" Roxton's voice was cold.

One of the men sitting at Burton's table went for his gun. Roxton drew and fired. His shot caught the man in the arm. "You didn't used to be that stupid, Meeks. Drawing your gun where you could be seen. Shooting someone in the back is more your style." Meeks snarled at the pain and at the insult.

Burton 's eyes narrowed as he reassessed the situation. Going up against a greenhorn was one thing. This…..He made up his mind. "All right, Roxton, I'll be along. I just want to finish my drink and this hand of cards." He played for time as he nodded to one of his men by the back door.

Roxton walked over and picked the cards lying on the table and glanced at them. Pair of aces and eights, and a queen. "You'll want to play this one out." In a show of contempt, he picked up one of the whiskey glasses on the table and tossed back the shot. Then he picked up the cards in front of Meeks who was cowering in his chair holding his arm. "Meeks is going to fold anyway." He looked at the pasteboards he held. "Pity, it was a good hand."

Roxton turned towards the door. Bill was to the side, still watching the men at the table.

"Look out" At Bill's shout, Roxton swung around. Meeks had his gun out. Meeks fired. Meek's shot went wide at Roxton's sudden response. Bill went down. Roxton fired. Meeks was stretched out, his blood soaking the wooden planks. Roxton knelt beside the wounded Bill.

"Where'd you learn to shoot, greenhorn" Roxton could tell by the pallor Bill wasn't going to make it. "You ain't half bad." Bill gathered his strength. "You'll get 'em? For Jake, for me"

"I'll get them, Bill." Poker Bill tried to nod but he was gone. Roxton lowered his body to the floor. He looked straight at Burton. "Be there." The tightness of his voice conveyed Jeremiah's fury.

Roxton backed away and out the swinging doors.

Maylene stood at the entrance her rifle trained on one of Burton's henchmen who had tried to slip around and get the drop on Roxton. Roxton aimed his pistol at him as well.

"Get! Or you'll be buried next to Meeks."

The man gulped and backed away, when he got to the corner of the building he turned and ran.

"I'm sorry about Bill." Maylene offered in a soft voice. She'd had some bad moments as she kept the gunslinger from ambushing Roxton and heard the gunfire in the saloon. Quick glances had assured her Jeremiah was still on his feet, but she had to keep most of her attention on her prisoner.

Jeremiah's arm went around her shoulders. "Thank you." They stayed alert as they walked the street, assessing the situation. Men were coming out of the saloon; word of the gunfight was spreading. He stopped by the general store and edged Maylene into the doorway. "Stay here." His voice was firm. He kissed her forehead tenderly, his lips lingering there for a long moment. "I have to do this, May. For Jake and Bill. Even for Jess. Burton will want to make a clean sweep now that I started people talking." He turned back to the street.

Jeremiah Roxton firm and steady steps took him to the center of the dusty main street of the town. The sun blazed directly overhead. The street was empty. The good citizens of Silver City were wisely taking shelter until the shooting was done.

On the uneven boards that made up the sidewalk, Maylene stood, rifle gripped in her hand, watching with fear and anger. His firm instructions to her to remain on the side still had her glaring at him. She watched unhappily as he went forth to face his friends' killers.

A movement in the second floor window across the street caught her eye. The sun gleamed on the rifle barrel that was raised, aimed at her husband's back. Her Winchester was thrown to her shoulder. Her aim was true as she pulled the trigger. A shout and a body tumbled forward from the window to the street below.

Her decision made, she stepped out on to the street, determined to guard Roxton's back.

"Don't you dare, Maylene" Roxton kept his eyes on the street ahead as his wife placed herself at his back.

"Too late, if you don't trust me, we're both dead." She walked backwards, one hand touching him to guide her steps.

"You're infuriating" Jeremiah bit out the comment, angry with her for putting herself in danger. His steps were steady.

"You're insufferable" Maylene shot back. "Don't you ever get tired of looking after everyone, but yourself" She continued to scan the surrounding buildings for further signs of an ambush.

Any response the Bostonian might have made was prevented as the man he'd challenged stepped into the street.

"Are you going to let your woman get in the middle of this" Burton taunted, looking to throw Roxton off balance.

"Let me! Why, you –" Anger sparked Maylene

"MAY! Get over to the side." Roxton ordered firmly.

"No. He wants me out of the way, so they can bushwhack you." Her keen eyes picked out the shadowy figure inside the store window.

Roxton's mouth was dry. If things went wrong, if Maylene stayed where she was, it was too easy for her to catch a stray bullet. "Go, May. Please. I don't want your death on my hands."

"I can't. They'll kill you for sure. And I'd have your death on my hands." With more confidence in her voice than she actually felt she said"We can do this."

"Together then." Roxton took a couple of steps forward. Maylene shadowed him, keeping her eyes on the figure behind the glass. Burton stepped further into the dusty, packed dirt street.

There was a pause. The air was still. Absolute quiet.

Four shots rang out at almost the same time.

A crash of glass, a body slumped, a body hit the dirt in the main street of the town.

Jeremiah turned and grabbed Maylene. "Are you hurt" His frantic gaze looked for blood.

Maylene clutched his arm. She shook her head. "Did he get you" Her free hand patted his chest in disbelief.

"No, he missed." Jeremiah gestured to the street where Burton lay still. Looking back he saw the body lying halfway out the store window. He saw that it was Logan. His rifle lay on the boardwalk. "Looks like he missed, too."

"Can we get out of here now" Maylene wanted to be away from the town before anything else went wrong.

"It'll mean sleeping on the trail." Jeremiah warned her.

"I don't care."

"It'll be cold." There was an expectation to the Bostonian's words.

Maylene looked away as she said"I'm sure you'll find a way to keep us warm."

Roxton smiled, draped his arm across her shoulders as they headed for the horses anxious to shake the dust of the town from their boots.

**some five years later, 1881 **  
"I'm glad to be out of Tombstone." Maylene had a saddlebag over her shoulder as she and Jeremiah entered the livery stable.

"You can say that again. With the way the Earps and the Clantons are going at it there'll be bloodshed within the year." Jeremiah tightened the cinch on Maylene's saddle before turning to his. "What do you think, May, is this going to be the one" Roxton pulled the map out of the saddlebag as they prepared to mount up. They had grown accustomed to each others' habits and their way of life over the years.

"The Indians said the man would travel up here with a burro and empty sacks and come back down with the burro loaded." They were preparing to leave Webster City.

"Where did you learn to speak the Shoshoni's language so well" Roxton asked curiously.

"I don't know. There was a tribe in Wyoming. I guess I picked up a few words." Maylene tried to dismiss the topic for which she had no real answer.

"It was more than a few words." He persisted, then seeing Maylene's discomfort with the idea, he changed the subject. "So how many does this make" They'd been hunting down legends and tracking down stories of abandoned mines for the past five years.

"This has got to be the eleventh or twelfth one.

"The Lost Dutchman mine. Could be another wild goose chase." Roxton felt obliged to point out.

"Could be." Maylene was unconcerned with the possibility of another dead end.

"I could take you back to San Francisco again instead." Roxton tempted. He enjoyed how well she had adapted to the more sophisticated milieu of the big cities yet still could fall readily into the rugged lifestyle of the trail.

"Getting tired of roughing it already, Jeremiah" Maylene's mockery was playful.

"Just making sure my wife isn't getting ready to push me off a cliff because she misses her bubble bath." Jeremiah teased.

"Hmmm, tempting, but…"

"But what"

"I want to see the Blue Mountains." Maylene smiled.

"I think that's the real reason you've indulged my interest in tracking down these mines. You've just wanted to see the sights." Despite the light hearted words, Jeremiah thought for a minute, then with some concern asked"Have you been happy, Maylene? Without the ranch, without being settled in one place"

Maylene looked up at him and he saw his answer in the real happiness in her eyes. "I've been happier than I thought possible. This is what I wanted to do." She looked at him steadily. "You're the one I want to be with."

Roxton pulled her tight in his arms, then bent his head. A few moments later a cough from the stable hand reminded him where they were.

"Here's the supplies you said you wanted, Mister Roxton." The stable hand leered a bit. Maylene , whether in her Western skirt or the silken dress of the cities , was beautiful.

Noticing the stable hand's interest, Roxton placed himself between them and nodded tightly at the man. He turned back to Maylene.

"So after we finish with the Lost Dutchman's mine, where will we go" Maylene turned to do a last check of her saddlebags as Jeremiah stowed the supplies. They had interspersed their prospecting and following up old legends these past years with travel to a number of cities. And she really couldn't say which they enjoyed more. Certainly being out on the trail had its share of hardships and dangers. But would they appreciate the luxuries of the big hotels as much if they didn't have the contrast? When all was said and done she had her life of adventure and the travel she wanted.

Jeremiah thought for a minute. "How about back East? We'll start with Chicago and think about where to go next." Maylene mounted as Roxton undid the reins and handed them to her. In a moment they were out on the trail.

The first few miles of their journey were consumed with a discussion of possible locations to be visited after their exploration of the Blue Mountains.

As the conversation tapered off, Maylene thought back over the past six years since Martin died. She'd struggled with the ranch after Martin's death. It hadn't been easy even before then and afterwards she was hanging on by the skin of her teeth. Too stubborn to give up on Martin's dream. But the ranch was too big a job for one person.

And then there was Jeremiah. She smiled to herself as she thought of all that had happened. Sheriff Challenger and then Burton and his men were no problem at all compared to their trip back East.

After the gunfight in Silver City Jeremiah had dangled a trip to New York City in front of her, tempting her with her dreams. She was glad to go but more because she was anxious to get Jeremiah away. Afraid that after facing down Burton he'd be sought out by every would-be gunfighter looking to make a name.

They'd spent several weeks in New York City before Jeremiah suggested the trip to Boston. It made sense they were close by, Christmas was coming.

"It's time my family met my lovely wife." Jeremiah stroked her bare shoulder as they lay in the hotel bed.

Relaxed and happy she agreed without a moment's hesitation. Later she realized that he'd deliberately given her the weeks in New York so she could become accustom to society's ways. She was no longer bewildered by the array of cutlery or the number of courses to a meal. She grew to expect the formal manners, being handed out of a coach, walking on the inside, away from the street, waiters serving many elegant dishes, fine wines. If it wasn't quite second nature to her the way it was to Jeremiah, she at least wasn't caught off guard. She'd seen the fine houses and the elaborate coaches.

It was now one less thing to worry about as she met Jeremiah's parents, his brothers and their wives. She wasn't overawed by the fancy house. But she now understood why Jeremiah wanted to try something new. She was only amused at how everyone tried to push her and Jeremiah back into the mold they were comfortable with.

"Now that you're married, Jeremiah, it's time to settle down." It was a refrain they heard time and again while in Boston.

"I know the perfect house, I'm sure Maylene will love it." was another lure that was put out.

It wasn't that any of them were unkind. They'd been very welcoming to her, telling Jeremiah how sweet they found her. And if they thought her background more cultured than it was, well neither she nor Jeremiah thought any good would come from disabusing them of their notions. They never lied, but they never went into much detail about the Triple M or the town she had lived near.

It had finally come to a head the day before their visit was ending.

"You really can't take a gently bred lady like Maylene, back to such a dangerous place. It's not fit for a lady like her." Jeremiah's father spoke with determination. Jeremiah had smiled at his own memory of Maylene and her shotgun determined to face the world on her own terms.

Jeremiah looked at his wife. "What do you say, Maylene, are you ready to give up the soft life and head back West"

"I wouldn't miss it" Her enthusiasm had dimmed the Roxton family hopes that time, but the letters still came urging them to come back for another visit and hopefully a longer stay.

Maylene was amazed at how easy it had become to slip between two entirely different worlds and how much fun it was. The years had past quickly.

"May, anything wrong" Jeremiah turned in the saddle to look back at her. She realized that her reminiscing had let her fall behind. She urged the horse forward and caught up with her husband, her smile reassuring him that everything was all right.

The Blue Mountains lived up to their reputation. Their azure color took Maylene's breath away.

"I think I know one reason no one has found the mine." Roxton was studying the area, looking for landmarks.

"Why"

"This is the area known as Outlaw Trail. Anything you find, someone is likely to be willing to relieve you of it."

"I knew I didn't like the look of some those men in Monticello." Maylene frowned as she considered the town they just left.

"Let's just be cautious."

Roxton reined in his horse and looked around for the third time in an hour.

"What is it" Maylene's concern was written on her face.

"I have the oddest feeling we're being watched." Jeremiah studied the rocks and vegetation that bordered the narrow trail. His wilderness skills had improved since coming out West, but they were no match against those of a more experienced foe. "Can you see anything"

Maylene had been searching the area with her eyes, as well. "No, but I was never any good at hide and seek."

Roxton smiled at her quip. "Maybe it's just knowing we're near Robber's Roost that has me on edge. Let's go on." He touched his heels lightly his horse's sides.

"Do you think this is it" Maylene sounded doubtful. The opening was hardly more than a narrow slit. Jeremiah looked at his map and shrugged, unsure. Directions and landmarks were usually ambiguous when tracking down the old stories.

"It might be. If it had been any bigger, someone would have found it before this." Jeremiah dismounted and went to give Maylene a hand. "Only one way to find out."

They tied their horses to a nearby branch. The reins were loose enough to allow for grazing. Roxton pulled a lantern from their supplies and lit it. At the narrow mouth of the cave they looked at each other. Jeremiah reached for Maylene's hand and stepped into the cave. He had to twist sideways to make it through the tight passage. After a few feet it widened. They walked quite a bit before the tunnel widened into a space large enough so that the lantern didn't fill the area with light.

They stopped to inspect the walls, but found nothing of interest. A sudden crack from the mouth of the cave had them turning. A spark, easily visible in the all-consuming darkness of the cavern, was seen.

"Get down." Jeremiah shouted. He grabbed Maylene and the two huddled against a wall. The dust billowed and the rocks fell in the tunnel as the explosion echoed through the confined space, stunning the couple. In that moment oblivion took them.

The darkness was total, the dust was felt on the face and in the lungs rather than seen. Coughing Jeremiah reached out with his hand unable to call her name. A gasp to his left caused him to turn, trying to rise.

"Jeremiah, are you okay"

"I am now." His hand finally found the shoulder of his wife. "Are you all right"

"A few bumps, not much else. Do you know where the lantern got to" A cough accompanied the query.

"No, I'll see if I can find it.

"Why do you suppose this happened" Maylene asked.

"I think it was an ambush. You were probably right about those men in Monticello."

"All they're going to get is the horses and the saddlebags." Maylene pointed out. "I wasn't expecting trouble unless we found something."

"For some of those men, that is enough." Roxton thoughts were centering on the cave and their options.

"So what do we do" Maylene was calm. They'd gotten out of a lot of tight spots in the past.

"I need to find out how big this place is and if there are any tools."

"I could start along the opposite direction." Maylene offered.

"No, love. You stay here and talk to me so I can stay oriented in the dark."

It didn't take long, the cave was shallow; the walls were solid. Roxton was able to find his way back without difficulty. No tools were there to be tripped over, just loose rocks and the lantern.

"How big would you say the cave is, Jeremiah"

"Maybe twenty feet across, if that."

"Do you think we can dig our way out"

Roxton thought for a minute before answering. The truth was they were a hundred feet or more from the entrance. That they weren't crushed in the first fall of rocks had been a miracle. But this miracle seemed a double-edged sword. A quick death had been exchanged for a slow one.

"We have another problem. I think coal gas is seeping in. With the cave open it wouldn't have been much of a problem, now well..." His voice trailed off. "If you want, while there's still time, we can light the lantern."

Maylene knew that the coal gas had sealed their fate. It was unlikely they would have survived anyway. The cave was so small, they'd run out of oxygen soon. They'd be asphyxiated one way or another. The coal gas' explosive properties would probably not even come into play.

She had lived with the harsh realities of life on the frontier. Scraping out a living on the ranch as she and Martin had struggled to build a life. Those realities had brought her first husband to his death on the cattle drive, a victim of Jack Challenger's greed. But somehow life had decided that she was entitled to a bonus. She had been given Jeremiah Roxton and these past six years had been the happiest of her life. Living with Jeremiah had been better than anything she'd ever dreamed of. She had seen large cities. She'd traveled. It was better than the life of adventure she used to talk to Violet about.

Or maybe it was a life of adventure. Together they had been complete. Most people never got that. If this was all there was, it was more than she ever dreamed of. In the cover of darkness, she reached out and found his arm. Placing her lips against his, she said"Go ahead, Jeremiah. Light the lantern."

Roxton hesitated. "In a bit, perhaps. For now let's just sit together."

The couple slept; the coal gas silently, insidiously working. The man stirred.

"Maylene, wake-up. Maylene"

"Need to sleep."

"Maylene, I have to tell you something. It's important."

With a start she came awake. Looking about she realized where she was. "I just had the strangest dream."

"Strange in a pleasant way, I hope." Jeremiah's voice exuded calm.

"I'm not sure. We were on a ship, on the ocean." She laughed a little despite the circumstances. "You were a pirate."

Jeremiah smiled as well. "I didn't think you'd ever been on the ocean."

"I haven't. But it was real strange. It felt like it was more a memory than a dream."

"Maybe it was a memory." Jeremiah paused. "That's what I have to talk about to you."

More fully awake, forcing herself to focus on the urgency in his voice. "What is it, love"

"From John Roxton's memory. There's going to be a room filled with books, skeletons of some strange animals mounted, large chairs. I'll be there. You'll come in. Our eyes will meet and we'll know."

"What will we know"

"That we're together again. That we found each other again. You have to remember. I think we'll have some rough times ahead. No matter what happens. No matter what you have to do, stay alive." Jeremiah was firm on that point. "Know that we'll find each other. Do that for me, my dear."

"We've always been drawn to each other, no matter what gets in our way." Her voice was reflective, the nearness of death bringing a clarity to her knowledge. "Jeremiah, I don't know how I know, but this isn't the first time we've been together."

"It won't be the last." The confidence in his voice was reassuring.

"That makes it a little easier, knowing you'll be there again." Maylene tried to ease her husband's mind. "If you could do things different, what would you do"

"Learn more about tracking, hunting. It seems the lack of those skills got us into this mess." Jeremiah felt Maylene's head move in negation against his shoulder. Trying to follow her lead and give her hope, he asked"What about you? What would you do"

"Maybe I should have learned more about these rocks. It would have come in handy when we were looking at all those mines."

"So we'll plan better for the future." Jeremiah tried to keep their spirits up.

Maylene was grateful for the darkness that hid her tears. Keeping her voice steady, she replied"It sure makes a good tale."

Roxton actually laughed at that, but quickly fell silent. After a moment he spoke. "I wanted to save you but there's nothing I can do." His sense of failure ate at him. "We won't end, Maylene. We won't end! The determination in his voice was strong.

"I know, Jeremiah, we'll be together again." There were no more words of consolation she could offer so she leaned her head upon shoulder. His sigh of frustration with himself tore at her. She slid her hand down his arm to grasp his hand in the closing darkness. His convulsive grasp of her fingers communicated his need to take as well as give comfort.

They took solace that they would not have to go on without each other. The assurance that they would be able to try again.

Together they sat in the darkness. And waited. And somewhere Morrighan realized that the wheel was turning. It was time to let their souls try anew.

**A year later, January, 1882, an ocean away **  
A man paced, his cigar forgotten in an ashtray. The door between the bedroom and elegant sitting room opened.

"Would you like to meet your son, my lord" The midwife offered the bundle.

Lord Roxton smiled at the red face topped with dark hair.

"What is his name, my lord"

"John Richard"

**Several years later, location undisclosed **  
A jeweler looked over his work. The engraving was complete. It was a woman's locket, but the recipient was an infant as he understood it.

With the pride of a craftsman, he double-checked his work.

"For our daughter, Marguerite, forever in our thoughts."

**At the treehouse **  
"I'm convinced, Marguerite. They were us…. just an earlier time. I'm hoping that Jeremiah Roxton somehow was able to be there for her."

Marguerite's eyes took in the serious set of his mouth. "I'm sure he was, John."

He kissed her forehead, grateful for the comfort she always managed to offer him, in this life and apparently in a past one.

"Just when did you put my ring with the voodoo doll" Marguerite looked away as she spoke.

"It was after we encountered the Kobolds." The hunter had a suspicion on where she was headed with this question.

"So it was there when we were in the wretched English village" Her eyes reflected her dread of her suspicions." It was in that village that she'd cauterized Roxton's wound. Stayed beside him. And with a simple kiss, they acknowledged their feelings for each other.

"That did not affect what happened." Roxton was very definite on that point.

"How can we be sure" The pain in Marguerite's eyes was hard for Roxton to bear. Whatever happened to her in the past led her to expect the worst in any situation.

"I guess we'll have to try an experiment." He reached for hand and took the voodoo doll. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, giving her a slight smile. "You'll see, it'll be okay." Slowly he unwrapped the scrap of fabric holding the ring above where the doll's heart would be. He put both doll and ring on his chest of drawers at opposite ends. "Feel any different"

Marguerite just shrugged looking uncertain. Roxton took her hands in his and pulled her gently into his arms, one arm circling her waist, pulling her close, lowering his lips to hers. A sense of déjà vu overtook Roxton and he suddenly remembered Maylene and her reaction to his kiss. With the same care he took with the Wyoming woman, he kissed his Marguerite. He felt her response to his kiss and he deepened it, reveling in both the sentiment and the passion being released. Marguerite finally drew back slightly, panting from lack of oxygen and longing.

"Now do you believe" Roxton waited for her response with some trepidation.

Marguerite slid her hand behind his neck and pulled his head back down to hers.

**finis **

**Author's Notes:**  
Regarding the VDQ by-play. At the end of **Voodoo Queen** Roxton told us he was keeping the doll with Marguerite's ring. Ever since then his eyes and heart have not strayed, except for Maylene. The only way Maylene could be the exception was if she was Marguerite.

When I decided on the reincarnation concept for Marguerite and Roxton, Maylene and Jeremiah left me with a dilemma. Roxton's birth date is January, 1882 (per **Time After Time**). **Dead Man's Hill** is set in 1875. There wasn't a lot of time, so I decided they were living on borrowed time anyway. That led to a foreshadowing of **Trapped** where Roxton and Marguerite are caught in a cave that's filling up with coal gas. In working with Maylene I knew she wouldn't have wanted the few extra years we could eke out for her without her Roxton.

In the opening of the Jeremiah/Maylene sequence I realized Jeremiah had to die or else the noose wouldn't have been intact and the headstone wouldn't be there for Marguerite and Roxton to find. Marguerite/Maylene's Morrighan and the plateau's energy lines took care of the rest. Remember we know Marguerite is the reincarnation of Morrighan in from **Out of Time**.

Marguerite's concern in this story for Veronica and Malone's relationship was based on the concern she was showing in **Hollow Victory** for them.

**A little history:**  
Nevada was admitted as a state in 1864. Carson City was designated the capitol. Silver City is now a ghost town a little ways outside of Carson City. The details of Silver City are from my own imagination, since little is know of the actual history. There were major silver strikes in Nevada in 1859 and 1873. The sources for this information are varied.

Webster City is a ghost town in an area that's now an Indian reservation in Utah. Blue Mountain, the Outlaw Trail, Robber's Roost all have their place in geography, history and legend.

I admit unashamedly that I played fast and loose with the Bird Cage Theater. It didn't open up until 1881 in Tombstone, but I couldn't resist using the lyrics from the song for Nell so Maylene could hear them for the obvious reason. If you recall in Into the Fire, Marguerite is quite enamored with the lyrics of a Bird In a Gilded Cage. Check out tombestoneaz net for a link to the Bird Cage Theater which makes for fascinating reading including the story of the murder of a lady of the evening named Margarita.

A poker hand of aces and eights is now known as the "dead man's hand". It was the hand of cards Wild Bill Hickcock had when he was shot.

Inspiration for the use of Blue Mountain came from a folk song of that name sung by Fred Holstein. The song was written by a judge named Fred Keller for a cowboy convention. The convention was held at the turn of the century (early 1900's) in Monticello, Utah.

Who knows, maybe Malone was there and was inspired to write a piece for his high school newspaper that got him started on his career in journalism.


End file.
